


Lucifer's Wrath

by LucifersWrath



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, Domestic, Flashbacks, Gen, Nephilim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 17:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10598391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucifersWrath/pseuds/LucifersWrath
Summary: Lucifer's Day of Reckoning has come and past. But his dreams have turned to nightmares.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy the hastily written interpretation of my dream for the Season 12 finale! I do plan to flesh this out. I apologize for the characters who are only implied. Please enjoy!

It had all come down to this. Lucifer had been waiting years for this moment. Now he was ready to finally take his rightful place on the throne of Hell. He knew he would have no contest. Once he threw the upstart off, anyone who still dared to rebel would be easily squashed.  
Crowley had brought this on himself. He had usurped the throne that he had absolutely no right to. He knew nothing of royalty. And now he made his last mistake. He had given Lucifer a familiar vessel and made it powerful. He had blindly, stupidly accepted his total submission. He had made it difficult to find a way out of the security system, but Lucifer had managed.  
The chains that limited his movements fell away. Lucifer rose to his feet, stretching and surveying the scene in front of him. He didn’t immediately dissolve the simpering demon pair. Yet. He knew for a fact that most of the demons would follow him without question. But for those who still doubted the true power he wielded, he wanted to convey a calm transition into his reign. Surely, even to the most hesitant of demon, he would be a welcome contrast to Crowley’s seemingly pointless need for drama.

Crowley slumped in the wooden throne, trying and failing to look casually suave. He propped his face with his fist. He had completely drowned out the demon reading some boring report verbatim. He realized that the blonde demon had fallen silent, as if waiting for some kind of answer.  
“Can you repeat the question?” Crowley asked, catching the demon’s annoyed expression. Before he could reprimand the upstart, there as an interruption.  
The double doors to the throne room were thrown open with such force that they bounced off the walls they slammed against. Lucifer strode in, wearing a smirk like the cat that got the cream. “Crowley!”  
“Lucifer,” Crowley replied, his tone shocked, flying to his feet. For a moment, his eyes widened in fear, before narrowing in anger. “Aren’t you forgetting something? I own you. You’re finished. I am the One True King.”  
As he spoke, the flickering light of the torches, and even the sunlight straining through the dirty windows, began to dim. Lucifer’s prideful smirk seemed to widen as he began to glow. Having none of this, Crowley raised his hand and snapped his fingers.  
Lucifer cried out and crumpled. The original light flushed into the room as he fell to his knees. Crowley began to cackle his annoying laugh. Lucifer didn’t move. He was frozen in complete agony, whimpering softly.  
“Do you understand now, pup?” Crowley asked, as he began to cross the room to his mortal enemy. “Your demons work for me. Everything you think they’re doing for you is all a part of my plan. I. Own. You.  
Crowley stopped in front of Lucifer, looking down at him with a mix of pride and disgust. Lucifer shook like a leaf, his eyes cast down at Crowley’s spit-shined loafers. 

The Real Lucifer had learned a trick or two about using decoys from his younger brother Gabriel. He sent an exact replica of himself towards the throne room, before slipping down another passage. One of his loyal followers showed him the back entrance into the throne room. He dismissed the overly chatty demon and waited with an ear cocked. He bided his time until he heard his copy cry out and Crowley began stroking his ego before slipping in unnoticed.  
The blonde pencil pusher barely had time to react, yet alone ruin the surprise. Lucifer grabbed him in a headlock and snapped his neck. He carefully lowered the body to the floor, so as not to interrupt Crowley’s little speech.  
“You wish,” Lucifer mouthed, as he crept silently behind the Scottish imposer and summoned his ancient sword.

“That’s where you're wrong,” Lucifer’s voice spoke from directly behind Crowley. Before the over-glorified crossroads demon could react, it was all over. An archangel's blade erupted from his chest.  
The identical facsimile of Lucifer looked up, still laughing at Crowley’s arrogance. He vanished into a shimmer of glowing light. The real Lucifer threw his bloodied free arm around Crowley, pulling him closer. “You have never been King. You were nothing more than a crossroads demon who got too cocky.”  
With that, he yanked his blade up and through Crowley’s beating heart. He felt the demon’s life whisk away, then removed the crimson sword. He dropped the meat suit to the dusty stone floor and turned towards the throne.  
The blonde demon lay dead, quickly silenced before he could raise the alarm. Lucifer gave the rigid throne a contemptuous once over. He added it to his list of renovations. He had two more things to take care of before he could truly claim the throne. He was going to finish the Winchesters, once and for all. Perhaps he would take out the annoying angel, Castiel, who was always hanging off Dean’s arm like a lost puppy, if he was there.  
But first, he had to meet his son.

He landed in front of the apartment, where Dagon had been protecting his unborn child. She had told him only hours ago that the container had gone into labor. He scouted no signs of approaching danger and flew to the landing.  
The front door was wide open, an instant cause for alarm. The hinges had been ripped off, the lock splintered. Someone or something had forced their way in.  
He rushed to the doorway and came to a halt. Lucifer braced himself on the door frame, taking in the scene. Dagon was dead. Most of her remains lay in between the two bedrooms. The rest of her was scattered throughout the hall.  
Lucifer didn’t remember crossing through the redecorated hall. He glanced into the first bedroom. Kelly lay dead. Dagon had spoken of restraining her when the third trimester began. She was still chained to the bed. She appeared to have transpired during labor, possibly caused by bleeding out. This had forced Dagon to cut the baby free.  
He saw no signs of his son in the room that stank of death. Lucifer entered the second bedroom and found himself unable to take another step.  
A crib had been constructed in the rooms center. At first glance, the mattress and bedding appeared to have been purchased crimson intentionally, as if Dagon possessed a sense of humor or a modern conception of the color association.  
“No,” Lucifer gasped softly. His legs melted, and he staggered into the room. He grabbed at the top of the bars. He stared down into the crib, his emotions running wild at what he saw.  
“No. No, God, no,” he sobbed. He slipped down to his knees, his whole body struck with grief. He cried not for the fallen Prince of Hell. He didn’t even remember the women who had been destroyed.  
He would find whoever had murdered his son. They could run, but they could never hide. Lucifer would make them suffer unendurable and everlasting agony.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for coming, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
